


This is the End

by NewSoul



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Tears, end fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 12:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1470010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NewSoul/pseuds/NewSoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A while back at a convention Jensen said that he had a dream about how the show would end. A couple days later I started writing this fic because I woke up in one of those moods. Jensen's dream is the description, enjoy! Also if you haven't seen the video here it is: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GCrZgMg-5ZU</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is the End

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic to AO3 so everyone please be nice and constructive criticism is wonderfully helpful. This fic is also on my ff.net page as well here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10052188/1/This-is-the-End

Dean Winchester drives down the New Mexico highway with a vacant stare. The overwhelming heat of the desert seems to fit his view that his entire life, or what’s left of it, has gone up in flames. Dean doesn’t feel the sweltering wind that whips through the Impala’s open windows, in fact, Dean doesn’t feel anything. His heart is four states over in ashes next to his brother and the thing that finally took him away.

Dean is beyond caring what took his brother this time, it doesn’t matter anyways. Sam had told Dean that he was finally ready to go and there was no changing that, not this time. No calling Cas last minute, no deals at crossroads to be made this time around. “What’s dead should stay dead,” spoke the younger Winchester, echoing his big brother’s sage wisdom of days long past. Dean, finally at a loss, accepted these words. Bringing his baby brother back had caused too much pain before and he couldn’t handle it again. Sammy was in a better place now, and that’s where he was gonna stay this time.

Dean had drove for three days straight now, only stopping to fuel the Impala as well as himself and to take care of other “human things.” He was driving because it was the only thing he could find meaning in anymore. He kept driving, even though it nearly brought him to tears when he turned to say something to Sam and all he found was an empty leather seat staring back at him.

He passed road signs without caring to read them. All they could tell him is that, while he was sixty miles over the limit, he could never drive fast enough to escape the emptiness settling into his many times shattered heart. However, when Dean passes a man on the side of the road struggling with a motorcycle he stops for some illogical reason. Glancing once more at the empty seat next to him, he U-turns and pulls over to the side of the cyclist and offers to lend a hand.

Dean has the hog up and running in no time flat. The bike is a classic, a jet black Indian that looked to be about the same age as the old girl he just climbed out of. Dean ponders his next step carefully as he fixes the bike. When he’s tightened the last bolt he has an exchange with the biker. Someone far off would note the biker’s growing surprise at the words that come out of Dean’s mouth. The ragged man then looks as if he’s in deep thought for a moment then holds out a leathery hand to the younger man.

Dean hands over the keys to the impala.

This is an action that if you asked Dean to do a week prior he would have punched you in the face and then laughed as he walked away. Dean possess no laughter now as he goes to the trunk of his baby and loads up everything he can into a beaten army green backpack. His .45, Ruby’s Knife, layers of flannel and denim, ammunition, two shotguns, and his dad’s journal are the only things Dean cares to own now. He tells the Impala’s new owner he can do as he wishes with the remaining cargo as the old man hands over the keys to the bike. Before he leaves he presses a hand to the hood, “we made a good run at it didn’t we girl?” he whispers, “I’m sorry Baby, I’m so sorry.”

Dean watches as the former biker drives off with his Baby, this is the last time he’ll ever see her. A little of the heaviness in Dean’s chest lifts. He doesn’t need the extra seat anymore, and now he doesn’t have to be reminded of this fact every time he looks to the right. Dean now starts the bike up and rides in the opposite direction of the Impala, as far away from the Hunter’s life as he can get. Why? Because it’s not life without Sammy, and hunting alone makes you do stupid things. Or at least that’s what he tells himself until Garth calls two days later with a Windego in Minnesota.

Dean declines the job at first but then Garth mentions that it’s killed two brothers already and then Dean can’t say no. He comes away from the hunt a week later without a scratch.

Two weeks after that Dean is cleaning out a vampire’s nest in Chicago, one that was preying on tipsy teenagers stumbling away from underage clubs on the weekends. There’s about fifteen of them but Dean limps away with a sprained ankle and a bunch of bruises.

Six months after that Dean just barely manages to make it out of a werewolf pack alive, but the mutts are dead, so it doesn’t matter. None of the other hunters hear from Dean, but they certainly hear stories. “Did you hear about what Winchester did last month?” they all start. Soon Dean becomes infamous in the hunter community for working alone and pulling off massively impressive hunts, but he never knows what they say. He never contacts anyone but Garth anymore, and even then it’s only when he can’t find a hunt on his own, which is a rare thing in its own right.

Five years after the werewolves, Dean finally is forced to call Cas. He’s infiltrated an angel underground network and he can’t take it on by himself. After they clean out the sleeper cell, Cas tries to talk to his old friend but is unsuccessful. Dean is a hardened man now; he can’t afford the luxury of a friend anymore. The two part ways without saying a word once the cleanup is finished.

Ten years pass and Dean is in his fifties now, never thought he’d make it this far, he’d say if anyone would ask, but they don’t. He takes on a demon only to find out that it’s about twenty demons that he’s hunting. The sick bastards catch him and beat him black and blue. Dean takes it with a gag in his mouth… because you don’t need to speak out loud to pray. Cas shows up just before the demons try to stab Dean with his own knife and lights em up. Dean joins in when he’s free from his bonds.

The fight ends bloody, but not before Dean’s chest gets blasted full of buck shot as he stabs a demon chick. The brawl isn’t over before another demon drives a blade through Deans left shoulder as he slits the black eyed bastard’s throat and it’s certainly not done before the last demon standing shoots Dean in the back with his own .45, because Cas couldn’t get there fast enough. Dean falls to the floor, beaten and bloody, as one final flash of white light blasts through the room (Cas taking out the demon who fired Dean’s Colt).

Immediately Cas is at Dean’s side trying to heal him, but he can’t. Cas has been away from Heaven too long to save his only friend left. Dean knows this is the end for him, he knew it when he was being tied up by the demons just hours before. He just grabs the air as he chokes on his own blood. Cas grabs Dean’s fumbling hand and sits with him as he bleeds out. Both man and his angel comrade are silent except for the coughing of Dean struggling to take his final breaths.

Dean finally accepts his demise when sees Death himself personally coming to ferry his soul to the other side, whichever part he may end up at. He looks up at Cas who nods in understanding that this is the final time he will see his friend. A single tear rolls down Dean’s cheek as he closes his eyes one last time and he is engulfed with the darkness.  
Dean’s eyes open and he’s back on a highway. This one isn’t in New Mexico; in fact Dean has no clue where he is. He is only aware of the fact that about twenty feet in front of him sits the Impala, the car he hasn’t seen in nearly twenty years. Inside the Impala, he sees a very familiar brunette head bobbing in the passenger seat. Dean strides forward and leans in through the open window.

“Well?” asks Sam, “Aren’t you coming? We’ve got work to do.” Dean smiles, for the first time in two decades, at his baby brother.

“Sure thing Sammy,” he replies as he opens the door. Dean is home now, the only place he’s ever wanted to be.


End file.
